


In Stereo

by Totalspiffage



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, my beautiful omnic oc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-07
Updated: 2017-07-07
Packaged: 2018-11-28 20:07:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11425242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Totalspiffage/pseuds/Totalspiffage
Summary: Siren Kydah deals on her own terms. She was made to brainwash and disable humans, but she went rogue, and prefers the wild chaos of life in the sky- a pirate with a crew of only two.





	In Stereo

**Author's Note:**

> Wanted to write a quick study of my Overwatch OC, Siren. She's definitely an offense hero. Might or might not write more. I had a dream once that I was cast to play a hero called Siren, so who knows if that's her real name, but she's a beautiful omnic pirate and i love her.

Siren Kydah dealt on her own terms.

Today was no different. She donned her mask, covering her identifying faceplate lights. Her map blinked to life in the forefront of her memory core and she focused, her feet humming slowly as she charged a jump to the rooftops. She ran. Two minutes to get to the drop zone, exchange tech with the rep, and get out. Surely not the most complex job they’d had.

St. Petersburg was a cold city, luckily she was built for endurance.  People hated omnics here more than a lot of other places, probably because the fighting was still happening here. Still, if she moved fast and stayed quiet no one could know. She moved as quickly and quietly as possible, her long coat swishing behind her as she made her way forward.

She arrived, and a lean man was there, a red bandage around his hand. He looked poor, but it was part of the act. That's the signal. She put up a hand in mock greeting. He reciprocated and moved towards her.

“Confirmed, payment made, exchange is green,” her shipmate’s voice came over her systems. Her filtered voice box would give her away as omnic, so she did not speak. The drive was slipped into his pocket as she approached him, and the agent nodded. She turned and left, signaling her ship without a movement.

A rustle at the end of a nearby street caught her attention. A child, holding an emergency EMP grenade. Luckily he probably hadn’t seen the exchange. <I know you, omnic. You cannot hide.> The child spoke, russian muddled with slang.

Shit.

Ren didn't like killing. Children especially were difficult. They had a strong sense of Justice, and in a place where omnics meant only death… She took a step forward, letting out her five note melody. Her chestplate reverberated, and the sound echoed.

She'd been built for this. To brainwash, control. Kill.

“Disengage.”

The boy stopped completely, eyes glazed and swaying on his feet, and set the grenade on the ground. Best to let him keep it, just in case some actual unfriendly omnics made it to him. She dashed past him, and made it back to her dropzone before her spell could lift.

“Drop in ten seconds.” Her first mate’s voice was a godsend. Siren watched the skies, and sure enough, her ship swooped in, doors open, and she jumped, boosted again by her jets.

Her ship wasn’t technically hers, but it had been abandoned after Overwatch’s shutdown. It had originally been a dropship, but her caretakers, scavengers, had put a few ports, a  few fold-out beds for humans, and made some dedicated rooms for crew, and it was hers now. Old Overwatch decals still decorated the walls, faded and peeling.

She landed, reeling from the power usage. Ren’s energy was low, finally. It had been a long night. As the ship took off, she stood, moving to make for her cabin.

“Welcome home, Siren.” Talcott’s voice was smooth, not worried at all, kind of a comfort amidst all the craziness. She owed them everything. They turned around in the seat to face Siren, their cross-shaped faceplate lights shining amidst the low light.

“I need to charge, Tal.” She said, and stumbled to her cabin. She ripped her mask off and collapsed on the charging port, power supply low. Her four diamond-shaped lights gave only a soft glow in the darkness. A song really took it out of her, and she didn’t like doing it if it could be avoided. But of course, these days things were rough. Jobs were tougher, her name was more well-known.

She was getting obselete, wasn’t she? Nearly 15 already, almost middle aged for most omnics. It was time to look into finding new parts. At least a new battery module. Sleep mode took her almost instantly, her power supply filling with life as she put her systems on standby.

A few hours later, she was awoken by a ping from the cockpit. Her systems woke up, stuttering a little as she ran her system checks in small blinks. Diagnostics. Memory. Functions. Fans. Green, green, green, green.

“Report,” she said, to the ceiling above her charge port.

Talcott’s voice was distorted over the comm, “Getting a weird message from Nepal. Shambali? You know one of ‘em, right? All that Iris shit makes my memory max out.”

She did know one, but that was a few years back. He’d helped her move some omnics out of a slum and to safety during a riot. His moves had been incredible, precise. She wasn’t sure the rest of them would be similar, considering he had been estranged.

“Ask for a name. We only know one, Zenyatta, and he said he left the Shambali a few years back. I’m not being lured into some kinda sting with some people who think we have no morals or whatever.”

A minute later, Talcott pings again. “Confirmed, it’s him, here’s a photo with his serial embedded.”

A serial was so detailed and intricate even a good hacker would have a hard time finding one for a specific omnic. It was basically a way for one omnic to trust that another was on the other end, and not a human trying to destroy their kind.

Siren planted both feet on the ground and shrugged off her clothes, a little worn from the Petersburg excursion. She threw on her casual wear, something unobstructive to her primary fans that still worked, and made her way out.

“Alright, ping Zen and put him on the line. Hope this is worth it.”

Zenyatta responded immediately, patching himself into the ship’s main holoscreen, the audio routed to Siren’s ports. He looked the same as Siren’s memory recalled, same lights, same voice, and it was a little comforting.

“Greetings, friend. It has been some time. I trust you are well?”

“As well as one can be, as a pirate, friend. And you’re back home, huh?”

Zenyatta chuckled, a warm, gentle sound, “It would seem. My brothers and sisters have welcomed me home, although I do not plan on staying long. I have a job for you, if you would accept.”

“Name it, and I’ll decide.”

“My cyborg counterpart will be returning shortly, and we will depart for Spain soon. There have been assassins tailing both of us recently. We require safe, trustworthy passage with few questions asked. We do have other options, but this is the quickest and most direct fashion.”

Siren thought for a moment. She could handle assassins. They were fast, and good at fighting. She knew Zenyatta could hold his own, and would provide much needed support to supplement her own repair program, which was really only for emergencies. Assassins would strike quick, probably alone or in pairs at most. They could take this.

“I thought monks didn’t have money,” she said. Zenyatta just laughed.

“Perhaps ones better than I abstain from currency. I will pay, yes.” He sent a figure to her visuals. Lot of zeroes. Damn.

She nodded, “That’s agreeable. I’ll send you security specs of the ship, our crew, and everything so you can assess. Pickup ASAP, I assume?”

“You would be correct. I’ll send you coordinates to a safe drop. I assume this is how this goes. I’m not quite versed in proper behavior, although my- counterpart has experience with security.”

Ren nodded and ended the call, proceeding to send him the promised documents. She hadn’t been to Nepal before, it was at least a 8 hour flight from their current location, “Alright Tal, you heard that. Time to get going.”

“That’s uh- that’s near where your Omniu-,” Tal said quietly before Ren cut them off.

“Yeah it’s where I was found. Don’t wanna talk about it.” She took a breath, “I’m sorry, I just- it’s hard to think about. They had me in a restrictive AI state when they found me.”

Restrictive AI was something the Omnics had used against humans in the war. A few powerful omnic leaders would take over Omniums, installing restrictive AI on all of them. They were incapable of questioning orders, incapable of developing fully. It was many omnics’ worst nightmare. It was  _her_ worst nightmare. Well, if she could dream like humans, she supposed. She remembered nothing from before her Restriction was lifted, snapping to life in the midst of Omnic scavengers, confused and disconnected from all networks. She could not speak, as no language had been installed on her systems. It was terrifying. She was quickly soothed by the omnic who had found her, and several humans and omnics worked together to install much needed knowledge database onto her platform.

Tal moved to put a comforting hand on her shoulder, she looked determinedly away from her friend, “They found you, though. Ketch brought you to their engineer, you’re safe, it’s not gonna happen again. You didn’t kill anyone before they got you. You were the only model to survive that attack anyway.”

She nodded, laughing a little, “I’m sorry, it’s just. I worry sometimes. I was made to kill humans, and now here I am. Killing people on all sides, sometimes.” She thought of Ketch, her rescuer.

“You’re surviving, Ren. You do what you gotta do. I’m right here with you, we got this.”

Talcott enveloped her in a hug. They were a taller model than she, though she was built to be more sturdy. Their hugs were still warm, and much needed. Thankfully they were both still alive to enjoy it.


End file.
